Virginia's stones
by Lee Nash

After the choice, another,
of weight and size only;
a practical concern,

the last, alone beside the water,
where even those beyond fear
forget the fears that count.

Washed in abstract dimness,
the bank seems made of words;
each rock a shard of language,

smooth or jagged-edged, resolved
to serve their mistress until the bitter end,
their heaviness now

more than just their nature.
She is used to choosing
and mostly gets it right.

Puts down her hat and cane, bends,
composes for the river
two pockets’ worth of stones.

(First published in Orbis Quarterly International Literary Journal, issue 72, summer 2015)

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